Friends
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: of Chryed.


_**Chryed aren't actually in this one, only mentioned by Mory, so apologies if I'm naughty for putting it on here. Hope you like it. :) xxx**_

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"I just can't believe it!"

Rory glanced up, distracted from an article on museums in the Middle East and closed the newspaper. Looking across the small kitchen, he smiled slowly, concerned at the sight of Michael's disgruntled face.

"What?" He asked. "That it's not butter?"

"Ha Ha." Michael intoned, slamming down the plastic lid on to the blender and Rory cautioned reasonably,

"You'll break it. What can't you believe?"

"Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

Uttering a small, non-committal mew, Rory took a bite of toast, hoping that with his mouth full he wouldn't have to confess that he'd tuned out a little while ago.

Rolling his eyes, Michael sighed loudly.

"Obviously not. Syed! What he's done. With that…" He turned the blender on full force, crossly watching the liquid in the jug foam and rise dangerously to the top, the racket of the motor drowning out his expletive.

Waiting for the noise to subside and, with any luck, Michael's wrath, Rory took a sip of hot smoky tea.

"Oh that! It's not really any of our business is it? We don't know what goes on in our friends relationships. There might have been issues."

"Stop being so reasonable. It can't be true. Sam must have got the wrong end of the stick." Michael leaned against the worktop and folded his arms, feeling slightly nauseous at the prospect that the love he thought was unbreakable might be heading for the rocks, the notion making his own happiness seem tenuous and fragile.

"He's probably embellished it a bit, being a rampant gossipy drama queen, but he wouldn't lie about something so important, surely? Have you rung Syed?"

Michael pouted at Rory and turned to open the cupboard above him, savagely dragging out a glass.

"I've tweeted, messaged, texted, called. He won't answer."

"Ah. Time for the carrier pigeon then. Christian?"

Groaning, Michael shook his head.

"He sent me a text saying not to worry. Which has made me worried. Something was wrong when he rang me in Cuba. Shit, I was too pissed to realise how wrong. Oh God, am I going to have to pick sides? This is horrible."

It's really sad, though you getting yourself in a tizzy about it won't help anyone. Are you miffed because it wasn't you?"

Spotting the corner of Rory's mouth twitch, Michael couldn't decide whether to laugh or empty the contents of the blender jug over his head.

"No!" He protested, outraged. Forced to acknowledge the impish pitchfork stabs of jealousy prodding at his heart, he added. "Yes. A bit. No. Oh f… Fred! Morning gorgeous!"

Dropping her school bag behind Rory's chair, Fred dipped to kiss the top of his head and stealthily stole the toast from his hand.

"Hiya! What on earth is that?" She pointed, aghast, at the stream of liquid that Michael was decanting from the blender. Going to stand beside him, she slipped her arms around his waist, letting him stroke her brown gold curls.

"Watercress, Wheatgrass and Kiwi smoothie. Do you want some?"

She wrinkled her nose, backing away from the glass that Michael was waving in front of her.

"God no! It looks vile! It's all kinds of green. Fifty shades of it…" Sensing her father's sudden vigilance, she grinned wickedly at Michael. "It's okay dad, I haven't read it…" Conspiratorially, she turned to mouth to Michael, "only the rude bits." He smothered a splutter of laughter, turning it into a cough and downed the liquid in one. Grimacing, he gagged and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"Foul."

"Serves you right!" Rory said mildly, turning a page and thinking about making some more toast. "Fred, you can't only have that for breakfast. Michael might be on some weird health kick because he thinks he's putting on weight…"

Rory and Fred studied the flatness of Michael's stomach and raised their eyebrows at each other.

"I'm laaate!" Fred protested, accepting the banana and apple that Michael thrust at her, leaping for her bag at the sound of the doorbell. "Ayesha's here."

"Well bring her in and sit down and eat some cereal or something…"

Regarding her dad piteously, Fred explained,

"Rubbish plan. The last time she saw Michael without his top on, she couldn't breathe for three hours. Laters!"

Rory grabbed on to the sleeve of her blazer as she passed, a whirlwind of youth, telling her,

"Text me when Drama Club's done this evening and we'll come and get you. Michael can watch us eat pizza. And don't…"

"Speak to any strange men. I'd never say a word in this house if I obeyed that rule. Love you both!"

The front door slammed behind her and Rory pushed back his chair. Wrapping his dressing gown more tightly across his body, he gently touched Michael's shoulder and lifted the lid on the bread bin, taking out two slices of bread. He automatically sniffed them to make sure they weren't mouldy before dropping them into the toaster.

"They'll sort it out." He reassured Michael. "It's a big scary thing making a lifelong commitment. Perhaps he got freaked out. It was a one off, wasn't it?"

"Yep. The guy went a bit stalkerish apparently" Michael tried to ignore memories of lurking behind a bush in Albert Square, feeling slightly hypocritical in his censure. "Syed though! He isn't like that." Glumly, he draped himself over Rory, who gave up trying to find the marmalade, soothingly holding him tight while the toaster dial clicked round towards the inevitable burning.

"Sometimes stress makes people behave strangely. He had all that money shit going on, didn't he?"

"That's another thing! Why didn't he come to us to bail him out?"

Michael's use of the word 'us' with regard to money made Rory smile, still unused to being associated with any sort of financial security.

"Pride? If he wouldn't tell his partner, his family or his oldest friend, I guess there were only strangers left. Sounds to me like an unfortunate series of events."

"Alright, Lemony Snicket. They've only just got married! Poor Syed. What was he thinking? He must have gone mad. Poor Christian. Sam said Ste said Zahida's Barry…"

"Who said what said who and Barry who?"

"You've met them! At that dinner, or were you only there in body?"

"Oh, the beautiful, peaceful lady and her splendid muscly husband…"

Disgruntled, Michael muttered, "Not that splendid or muscly… Anyway, Barry bumped into Christian and he said he looked awful, broken, face all bruised…"

"That's dreadful! Had he been in a fight?"

"Yes. With that…" Michael struggled for another insult that fully conveyed his hatred of the man who had tried to ruin his friend's relationship.

"I know." Rory guessed the sparking tears in Michael's eyes weren't down to the smoke now billowing from the toaster. He popped the incinerated slices of charcoal out, wincing as he burnt the tips of his fingers. "Leave them to it, for now, eh? If their love isn't enough to get them through this, a well-meaning idiot butting in isn't going to help. Ow."

"Give me..." Michael put Rory's sore fingers into his mouth and sucked them, his blue eyes thoughtful. Kissing each one in turn, he curled them around his own. "…So we wait?"

"And hope. And sadly, you should put on more than your pants. You've got to go to the gallery and sort out your exhibition, haven't you?"

"Sexybition… In a while. Time enough for a little lie down…" Michael closed his eyes and breathed the scent of Rory's skin in the hollow above his collarbone, familiar, warm, arousing. "…I'm glad it wasn't me, not miffed at all, only a microscopic atom of miffedness. Creating that havoc and misery." He murmured. "They will be okay won't they?"

Rory tenderly traced his thumb along the stubble on his jaw and nodded encouragingly, attempting to allay his fears and mask the fact that he had no idea.

"I don't think it would ever have been you, when it came down to it. Not while Syed was with Christian. You're a hideous flirt but underneath you're all love and loyalty. I'm thinking it was about something else entirely for Syed. A bad place, fear, self-worth. Most things work out in the end, one way or another. There is always a way back if you want to find it enough."

"You've been reading how to be trite for beginners, haven't you?"

Snorting indignantly, Rory took Michael's hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

"I'm doing my best here! I've got no fucking idea if our numpty friends can sort themselves out. All I know is I'm one hundred per cent sure Syed's heart has always been with Christian and Christian adores Syed. If I'm wrong, I'll shave my head."

Michael tugged at Rory's hair, affecting an expression of distress.

"Please god, nooo! I'll have nothing to hang on to and your head might be shaped like a peanut."

Suddenly serious, Michael gazed into the depths of Rory's dark brown eyes and carefully removed his spectacles, placing them on top of the pile of magazines stacked high on the radiator cover..

"You missed out you, before. It wouldn't be me because I would try so hard not to hurt you. This is depressing. How about you help me take my mind off it?"

Abandoning any attempt to make it out of the hall and as far as the bedroom, Rory cheerfully allowed Michael to push him against the wall, aware of how the news had unsettled him, faintly guilty that the act of making him feel better was going to be totally devoid of altruism.

"It's a terrible effort, but if I must…"


End file.
